


fickle fancy fickle girl

by gloss



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bloodplay, F/F, Rainbow Drinkers, Spoilers, Xeno, act 6 intermission 3, ancestor incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:54:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanaya is shy, Porrim is not, and all Maryams are beautiful.</p><p>For <a href="http://homesmut.dreamwidth.org/38154.html?thread=39185418&style=mine#cmt39185418">this prompt</a> on the kinkmeme. Kanaya is below the human age of 18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fickle fancy fickle girl

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sleater-Kinney's "Buy Her Candy"

"You're in a space of boundless possibilities, yet you wish to discuss technicalities?"

She doesn't actually know where they are; an adjacent dream bubble, perhaps Rose's, certainly human. The impersonality of the place was supposed to help Kanaya speak her mind.

All she wants to do is curl up and disappear.

But Kanaya is trying very hard to be sensible. "Yes. I would like your assistance with modulating my luminescence, as it seems I am incapable of doing so on my own."

Porrim laughs. And laughs. "And here I thought you wanted something a little less bright and a little more..."

"Flushed?" Kanaya can barely hear herself say the word.

Her predecessor is magnificent. 

Kanaya doesn't know where to look. Part of her wants to wake up, so she won't be here, but a much larger part of her wants to never wake up, ever. Porrim moves like silk and speaks like velvet; her eyes are huge and compelling, her tattoos seem to -- probably *do* -- writhe around her body like the happiest serpents known to life or death.

Kanaya settles for finding a stray thread on the hem of her skirt. She picks at it assiduously.

"Really, now, we've an entire dreambubble and all the time in the afterlife..." Porrim slides closer on the obscenely soft human-built sitting platform and runs her fingernails up and down Kanaya's arm. "Can't you enjoy this?"

She touches Kanaya's chin with one finger and barely has to exert any pressure to make Kanaya turn her head and meet her gaze.

"That's better, isn't it?" Porrim's smile is dazzling, so many fangs, such perfect sharpness.

Sharp perfection? Kanaya is a little "loopy" as Rose has said, stuck in a thought-loop, getting silly.

"No," Kanaya admits. It's scarier, certainly, and more confusing, but -- "Not better."

When Porrim frowns, she seems to deflate, her shoulders sagging, her head drooping, her eyes welling with pale green tears. It would be enough to shake the most hardened cavalreaper, let alone Kanaya the Easily Swayed and Most Irritatingly Impressionable, as Vriska once called her.

"No, no, I didn't mean that! Of course it's better, it is always more polite to make eye contact during social interaction, not that this is mere social interaction, of course, this is much more important and significant than that, but --"

"Sweet wiggler," Porrim says gently, all trace of her sadness gone, "sshh. You're talk-spewing."

"Babbling?"

Porrim cocks her head, appraising Kanaya through slightly lowered lashes. A faint smirk appears on her lips, then widens and strengthens until she is fully smiling. "One might say that, yes."

Kanaya passes her hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Please, don't be." Porrim edges fractionally closer, then closer yet. She is accomplishing higher-level geometry here, closing imperceptible gaps, bridging spaces that do not exist. She slips one arm across the back of the couch, almost-but-not quite touching Kanaya's shoulders. "That's the last thing I want."

Kanaya tips her head back and finds Porrim's arm a ready pillow, cool and soft, already bending around so she can stroke Kanaya's shoulder and chest. "You want something?"

Porrim laughs, right in Kanaya's auricular sponge clot. The sound is rich and thrilling, sending vibrations all the way through Kanaya, disturbing her skeleton, arousing her muscles. "You know I do. You may be shy, you may be awkward, but you _are_ me."

Kanaya trembles. She wishes, suddenly, that Rose were here. Or, oddly, Karkat. Someone decisive and loud. Someone who could --.

She gets the sudden mental image of Rose on her other side, Karkat watching from the floor as Rose and Porrim embrace her, hands running up and down her body, up her skirts, down her blouse, brilliant fingers teasing and plucking the most exquisite sensations from --.

"And by the blush on your face, I think you want it, too," Porrim concludes. The sound of her voice is replaced by the wet of her tongue, swirling out from Kanaya's ear, down her jaw, down her throat.

"I --"

Porrim eases Kanaya onto her back, one hand at the small of her back as she kisses further past Kanaya's collar. She's using her teeth now, sharp pricks quickly soothed and suckled, and Kanaya finds herself moaning before she can help it. She's poured out, elongated, almost perfectly limp and ready to offer up anything Porrim might want when Porrim suddenly yanks her upright, lifting and hauling Kanaya to straddle her lap.

"I, I, I... _Rose_ ," Kanaya manages to get out, the change in position allowing her temporary respite and a chance to think clearly. 

"Aww!" Porrim has her arms looped around Kanaya's waist, fingers playing over her rump, squeezing and pinching, hard enough to make Kanaya bounce a little. "Is red monogamy a thing again?"

"Again?"

Porrim shrugs extravagantly and shakes her hair off her shoulders. "These things go in and out of style. Quadrant hopping, monogamy, multiquadamory.... _So_ hard to keep track."

She's so sophisticated; Kanaya despairs of ever attaining even an iota of Porrim's blasé ease and beautiful unconcern. To be so untroubled by the intricacies of romance? So amused by their very existence? That is unimaginable. And enviable.

"But all I can say," Porrim continues, tightening her grasp on Kanaya, leaning into nuzzle at her neck before tipping back her head and saying, "is that this is your dream. Your...desire."

"But you're real."

"As a ghost, yes," Porrim says, laughing. In a blinding move, she releases Kanaya and pushes her hand up Kanaya's skirt, along the inside of her leg, all the way up, fingertips brushing nook as Kanaya nearly swoons, falling back, only to be caught and steadied by Porrim's other hand.

She is smart, and beautiful, and sophisticated, the troll Slim Keith, and she is _talented_ beyond the telling. Her own luminescence builds to match Kanaya's as she strokes her knuckles over Kanaya's nook, coaxing and teasing until she is soaked to the wrist and Kanaya is moaning loud enough to wake the dead.

If she weren't already fornicating with the dead, that is.

"Please," Kanaya says, tipping forward, pushing blindly at Porrim's waist and the straps on her dress. "Please, I want to -- give me --"

"Everything, sweet wiggler," Porrim says. They shift and rearrange so that Kanaya straddles one of Porrim's legs, while the other is drawn up, her gown hiked to her waist, her nook exposed and slickening. The fronds nudge open the nook, swell and grow bolder, a sudden verdant display that makes Kanaya's mind reel. ( _Do I look like that? I'll never look like that. I want to look like that._ )

"Now," Porrim tells her, voice thick and far more authoritative, thrusting up her nook, holding Kanaya down to grind her own. When Kanaya lifts again, Porrim pushes her hand in, and up, grasping Kanaya's fronds, pulling until Kanaya cries out. "There, harder. Do it."

Porrim's fronds brush Kanaya's hand, tickling, then writhing, pulling her inside. They flex around her, tightening inexorably. Soon she and Porrim have found a rhythm, awkward and jerky as it might be, fucking and yanking, sinking to the mid-arm, bent around each other, their bodies thrashing, their nooks taking and sucking and demanding _more_.

When Porrim's teeth close in Kanaya's shoulder, all she can think is what she says: "Yes, good. More." 

They are trolls, after all, and rainbow drinkers at that. Rose's skin is so fragile, it bruises when she bumps into something. Trolls are stronger than that; their skin tears slowly, their blood pumps rapidly, and the drain makes both their hips cant and rub faster, their nooks more desperate. When Kanaya manages to bite through, and tastes Porrim's blood, so much greenery, she cries out against the flow, jack-knifing in two, expelling Porrim's hand and ejaculating all over that beautiful gown.

She is tiny, ashamed, twitching, while Porrim takes her time finishing. She sucks Kanaya's blood to savor it, fucks herself around and against Kanaya's hand with long, lovely lifts of her body, rubbing and circling her rump, letting the pale green slick paint her smooth skin. Her fronds are fully unfurled and exposed to the malachite root, blurring so fast, pulling so forcefully, that Kanaya's entire arm is half-asleep, half-pricked with odd pains.

Porrim pushes her head and shoulders back into the cushions, lifting her ass and bracing herself on one foot, in order to thrust three-four-five more times onto Kanaya. Blood is smeared like a wrought-metal collar around the base of her throat and across her cheek. Her hair is huge, dishevelled and glorious, her eyes wide and alabaster, wheeling.

"Do it, sister," Kanaya says, wondering whence the words, "come for me --"

And she does, in a fury, in an eruption, of laughter and ejaculate, quickly wilting fronds and desperate, scrabbling hand. Her head thrown back, her throat arched and exposed, her nook spraying Kanaya with its fine, delicious mist.

They end wrapped up in each other's arms, sticky and leaking, sore and trembling.

A pale-haired human woman, a little like Rose, a little like the floating dream-sleeper, raises her glass to them from the doorway. "Now that, I will drink to."

 

[end]


End file.
